BLISS’ QUINTET FOR CLARINET AND STRINGS (1932)
A word about that much-maligned creature the composer. Bliss now writes well-bred romantic music. Like Prokoviev, he was once naughty, and like Prokoviev he has repented the error of his ways. This seems to please a lot of people who like to see other people repenting the error of their ways.
We are not told what the composer thinks. Is he really of the opinion that, in common with Poulenc and Milhaud, he wrote trash in the 1920s? Does he derive pleasure from being treated as the ignorant little boy who has at last renounced the dunce’s cap and come out of the corner into the world of grown-ups? And is he entirely satisfied with those moral homilies which, in England, so often take the place of musical criticism, those wise head-shakings, those amazing dissertations on the composer’s “maturityâ€, as if they, the critics, had themselves suckled and weaned him?
We hope, one day, that musicians such as Bliss, Walton, and even Vaughan Williams, will give us an answer to these questions.
Meanwhile, and most important, here is a Clarinet Quintet of a surpassing loveliness - a work, as the experts remind us, which can be set by the side of the Clarinet Quintets of Mozart and Brahms, and not suffer by reasons of this exalted comparison. Bliss has the poise which is lacking in Bax, and a nice sense of discrimination which makes us think of Faure. The clarinet among the strings sounds, as it should sound, like a hamadryad let loose in a grove of birch trees.
Let me say straight away that here is a romantic work with which I have unreservedly fallen in love, and I hope the affair will not be a temporary one. Intimacy of thought, as expressed in music by so many contemporary English composers, can be an almost alarmingly embarrassing experience. Bliss is obviously incapable of hysteria, and in this Quintet demonstrates his ability to deliver a message quietly and leave out the inhibitions. The music is a distinguished as a Spanish grandee, and thanks be to God, our “rough island story†does not appear to have played too aggressive a part in its making. It should, in other words, appeal to all cultured cosmopolitans. That, to me, is a satisfying thought.
To criticise, either the technique of the writing, or the interlocking arrangement of themes which make up this exciting composition, would be an impertinence. It is sufficient that the composer not only says what he want to say in terms of this most difficult medium, but that it is unthinkable that he should say it in terms of any other medium. Bliss’ harmonic idiom is of the type which seems to demand, for its fullest realisation, a free contrapuntal treatment. In this a parallel may be traced with Hindemith. It should be noted, in parenthesis, that all chamber music tends to be polyphonic in character, as it is in the nature of a group of solo instruments, particularly strings, to interweave - such a medium as a rule providing the romantic composer with a means of escape from a too intensive preoccupation with keyboard-influenced harmony.
There are quite a number of reasons why this work should be in the possession of every music-lover who owns a gramophone. Perhaps the most clinching one, for a great many readers at any rate, is that it can be had (on four 12-inch Decca records) for the ridiculous, almost immodest price of 10s.* The reproduction on any machine is not merely good, it is realistic - in that we get the true vibrato quality of the strings, absent in most electrical recordings. I only know one other modern recording which gives us that: the Bax Oboe Quintet, done by the NGS. An excellent analytical note accompanies the records, written, as is fitting, by an enthusiast of the composer (it is a reprint of an article by Eric Blom in The Musical Times). Novello publish the score at 10s 6d.*
The Gramophone, March 1936, one shilling